The sensations grew more painful with every passing minute. I curled up tighter on the bed, biting down hard on the corner of the pillow, trying to muffle the sob that broke through my throat. My chest hurt from crying too hard and from the pain inflicted by Elliot’s physical betrayal of our mate bond. I felt like I was being ripped apart from inside out.
Elliot.
He did it on purpose. He wanted to suffer.
I knew it the second he looked in the eye and whispered, “You are mine, Jasmine. You think you can walk away from ?” And then, just like that, he turned and walked straight into Isabella’s waiting arms—like I hadn’t mattered. Like everything we ever shared was just... disposable.
A broken sob escaped , and I rolled onto my side, fists clenched against my chest. The mark on my neck was still throbbing faintly, a sick reminder of the bond I never wanted. A bond he used like a weapon.
I hated him. Hated how he manipulated . How he used my father’s situation to corner . How he smiled sweetly when he was lying through his teeth.
“I could make it all go away,” he had said, fingers brushing my chin like he was doing a favor. “Your father walks free. Your mom gets dical care. All you have to do is remain mine, Jasmine. Just stop fighting it.”
Liar. Every word from his mouth was a trap.
I sat up weakly, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. That’s when I saw it—Gareth’s coat, still on the floor from earlier. My breath hitched.
I reached for it slowly, fingers trembling. Elliot had touched it, yes—but as I lifted it closer, I realized his scent hadn’t stuck. No. What hit was Gareth. Cedarwood. Musk. That subtle warmth reminded of strength and safety.
I pressed the coat to my face, inhaling deeply. The ache in my chest started to ease, just a little. I curled back into the sheets, wrapping the fabric around like an armor. I could almost hear his voice again. That calm, gruff tone. That quiet look in his eyes when he saw —not just on the surface, but like he was really seeing .
I closed my eyes and let myself rember our first eventful eting.
That first mont we t—at his daughter’s and Elliot’s engagent party. Wine spilled on my dress, and he offered his coat, infused with his scent. His eyes changed from stormy grey to pitch black when his wolf surfaced. That kiss... his hands on my body trailing sparks of fire on my skin.
“I want this,” I’d breathed, my heart pounding. My body was craving his.
“I will give you more than you want,” He replied. His hands were all over .
He didn’t flinch. Just smirked. “I want you, Jasmine.” Our bodies had moved together in the heat of our mutual desires.
Now, in the silence of the room, wrapped in his coat, I let the mory morph into sothing else—sothing I desperately needed.
In my dream, it was Gareth who was standing in the moonlight, not Elliot. Gareth pulled close, his hands warm on my waist. His kiss was slow, steady, and full of heat, and hunger. His lips tasted like fire and comfort all at once, and when he murmured my na against my mouth, it felt like a promise.
There’s no mark on my neck. No pain. No guilt.
Only him.
His hand traced down my back and drew goosebumps across my skin. He whispered things I didn’t even know I wanted to hear.
“You’re not broken, Jasmine.”
“You don’t belong to him.”
“You belong to .”
I gasped, my body pressed closer to his, craving more of that warmth, that safety. My fingers buried in his hair, and he groaned softly, like he’d been holding back for too long.
His scent—woodsy, clean, warm—was like a balm over my aching chest. I buried my face in it, sighing softly.
“Mine,” I whispered, not even realizing I’d said it out loud.
Sowhere between sleep and pain, my mind pulled under again.
I was in a sunlit room, in Gareth’s arms, wearing nothing but his shirt. His hand traced my cheek, and his gaze—goddess, that gaze—made my heart stutter.
“You look beautiful in my clothes,” he murmured.
I blushed. “You keep leaving them around. What did you expect?”
His smirk was soft this ti. “Maybe I wanted to mark my territory.”
Then he kissed , slow and deep. My fingers curled into his hair. I moaned when he pulled onto his lap, his mouth moving from my lips to my neck, to my collarbone. His hand slid under the shirt, and I didn’t stop him.
“Say you’re mine,” he whispered, breath hot against my skin.
“I’m yours,” I said, gasping as his teeth grazed the spot between my neck and shoulder—
Then I felt it. A sharp warmth. A rush of energy.
He marked .
But it didn’t hurt. It lit sothing in , sothing I didn’t even know was waiting.
Pleasure exploded through , my body arching into his as everything tightened and then shattered in waves of bliss. I clung to him, sobbing his na, overwheld. He held , whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
“We’ll have a little girl with your eyes,” he said, lips brushing my ear. “And a boy who’s just as stubborn as you.”
I laughed, breathless. “You want kids with ?”
“Only with you,” he said. “You’re all I want.”
I woke up with a soft cry, my thighs clenched, my breath shaky. I was drenched in sweat—and wetness between my thighs. My cheeks flad.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, burying my face in my hands. “Did I really...?”
I bit my lip, blinking up at the ceiling in shock. I had a sex dream about Gareth. “Damn it.”
A glance at the clock made panic. I overslept. My alarm must’ve gone off and I’d slept right through it, too blissed out in my fantasy to care.
“Crap, crap, crap!” I muttered, scrambling out of bed.
I nearly tripped over my own feet rushing to the bathroom. Gareth’s daughter was expecting —he was expecting —and here I was, sticky with sweat and sha, daydreaming like a lovesick teenager.
I tugged off the shirt, ready to jump into the shower—then froze.
My breath caught as I stared at the mirror.
Elliot’s marks.
Red. Bruising. Faint teeth impressions. Ugly reminders of what he did.
“You’re mine,” he growled out last night, dragging his mouth over my neck. “You can flirt with him all you want, but you’ll always co back to . You’re tied to , Jasmine. Whether you like it or not.”
My stomach churned. I touched the bruises gently, feeling rage and sha twist inside . I glanced at Gareth’s shirt, now discarded on the bed. I wished I belonged sowhere else. I wished Gareth was my mate instead.
But the dream that I had earlier was just a dream. My tangled relationship with Elliot was my reality.
With a heavy heart, I prepared myself to go to work.
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